Thursday, September 17, 2015

So, it's no mystery that we've been missing in the action for the last couple of weeks. There are a few reason for this. First and foremost, I've been re-examining my writing styles and habits and dwelling on what can be done to improve them. Secondly, I've been considering what I really want this to BE moving forward.

To start, we will be relocating all of our websites/social media in favor of something more meaningful. I wouldn't be the first author to admit that I've been nervous to truly but my name on things...thus why I hid behind "Sins Unwritten". I am changing this now to reflect my own works as "R.B. Publishing".

Next, I will not be able to guarantee daily updates. While I will work on building a backlog of something (maybe writing prompts), I will not work off the false promise of absolute and constant updates. I will definitely favor towards regular updating, I just don't want to give the false promise that it will be daily.

Third, I want to do more than just sharing my writing. I already touched on this a bit with the writing prompts, but there are a number of things that can be done here. Writing prompts, stories, poetry, book reviews, and maybe even some kind of hub where other authors and even people looking to hire authors might come together. Please note, this later idea is still in the planning stages and might pop up later rather than sooner.

And that's about it. If you'd like to continue to follow our works and what is to come, the respective websites can be found below.

Friday, September 11, 2015

So I just wanted to give you a heads-up that we
are still around but have been chewing the scenery a little bit
regarding how we are going to do things. Obviously we are a relatively
new blog/site and, as such, are still trying to figure out what we want
to be. Kinda fluid, if you will. As such, I’ve already concluded that
the “daily original content” idea just doesn’t work well, but perhaps we
can do something else.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

So it was recently brought to my attention that I may need to reconsider my approach to writing; not only in style, but in overall how I think and feel about the projects I produce. This may result in a change of how I deal with the blog and respective website. You might not see updates for a day or two, however I'll let you know what comes of this brainstorming.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Adam leaned back in his chair with mouse in
hand. Slowly, almost absent mindedly, scrolling through the website, looking
for absolutely anything that might amuse him.

So far no luck.

With the exception of his mouse hand and
the occasional keyboard usage, he hadn’t moved for hours. Even worse, he had
spent his entire day like this. The sun had risen and set again while he
wallowed his time away doing nothing short of occasionally “Liking” or
“Reblogging” something that gave him a mental chuckle.

Picking up the glass at his side, he noted
for the fifth time in the last half hour that it was empty and set it back
down.

He didn’t bother getting up to refill it.

He’d do it eventually.

Another hour passed like this in utter
silence. Scrolling. Staring. Clicking. The only light in the room was from his
monitor. After a good four hours of relative inactivity, his bladder demanded
relief.

The trip to the restroom was just as
unpleasant as ever. His medicine had worn off and it felt like someone slipped
a blade into his back. The pain was horrible, but he mentally ignored it. It
wasn’t exactly a new thing.

Finally up and about, Adam made his rounds
through the empty house. He refilled his glass. Grabbed a bag of chips. Popped
two pills. A few minutes later, he was all settled in to continue wandering the
internet.

Before he could get comfortable though, his
phone rang.

Dad.

He stared at the phone as it rang,
considering whether or not he dared to pick it up.

He didn’t.

A few seconds later, the phone beeped
telling him he had a voicemail.

“Hey…Adam. Look, I know that we haven’t
spoken in a while but something’s come up. I don’t really want to leave this on
your voicemail, so could you call me back as soon as you get this? It’s really
important.”

He didn’t call him.

The next day passed much like the day
before. Long periods of absolutely nothing, mindlessly scrolling through
websites or watching videos, eating when he was hungry and drinking when he was
thirsty. The sun rose and fell while he rotted away in his chair.

Much to his surprise, the phone rang again.

He didn’t pick up.

“Hi Adam. I’m sure you’re busy with work
and school, but can you call me back as soon as you get this? I…Well…I’m in the
hospital right now. It would seem that I’m sick and the doctors are worried
that it might be bad. I know we’ve had our differences but I would really like
to talk to you if I can. Sorry to bother you. I lo-…. Call me back.”

He didn’t call him.

After a few hours of sleep and a day of
work that passed like molasses, Adam was once again back at home. Alone in the
darkness of his room, face lit up by the computer screen. His mind began to
wander to his father.

He had never gotten along with his Dad. He
was by no means a nice person and Adam didn’t agree with many of his political
and personal views of which his father was QUITE vocal about most of the time.
They hadn’t spoken in years.

Why
should I start now?

As if on cue, the phone rang again.

Straight to voicemail.

To his surprise, it was his stepmother.

“Adam, it’s Cindy. Your father asked that I
try to reach you again. He’s going into surgery tomorrow and wanted to see you
before they took him down. They’ve found some kind of growth that they need to
remove. Give us a call back. We’re at the hospital on Fair Oak.”

A growth?

His mind was reeling. On the one hand, all
Adam had ever felt for his father the last few years was bitter resentment.
Hatred of his choices. Hatred of his demeanor. Hatred of the way his parents
and split up. Hatred for everything that his father represented.

Hell, he had such disgust for his father
that he used “Adam” instead of his real first name.

No.

Another night of drinks and drugs, chips
and internet.

The next day, sometime around noon, his
phone rang again.

Voicemail.

“Son. I…I… I’m going to be going down to
surgery now. I just wanted to talk to you before-hand. The doctors are going to
be removing something from my lungs. They said it’s pretty risky so I…”

It sounded like his dad was going to start
crying.

“…look. I’ve made some mistakes. Saying it
doesn’t make up for what I’ve done, but I just…I want you to know that I love
you, son…”

Adam’s father hadn’t said I love you in over six years.

“I really want to talk to you before I go.
I want to apologize for everything. I just want you to k-k-kn-nnn…*beep*”

The call was dropped.

Adam sat frozen, phone to his ear, staring
at his computer screens.

Maybe it was hearing his father breaking
down on the other end. Maybe it was the call dropping and not being able to
hear what was said. Maybe it was just having his father call him more in the
last four days than he’s heard from him in the last few years.

He called him back.

Straight to voicemail.

“Dad. It’s Adam. I just got your call but
it sounds like there are reception issues. Cindy told me you’re at the hospital
on Fair Oak so I’m gonna try to drop in and see you. Give me a call when you
get this.”

For the first time in a few days, Adam
showered off and dressed down. He stopped by a flower shop and got a “Get Well”
gift for his dad. A couple of hours later he was at the hospital being direct
up to a little room on the fifth floor where his father had been staying.

Walking into the little room, he found his stepmother
in a little plastic chair. Her face was buried in her hands and she was sobbing
uncontrollably.

“Cindy?”

Cindy looked up and did a double take
through puffy red eyes.

“A-Adam…I…I…”

He looked around the room. The bed was
gone. The room was empty except for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your father…he-he…”

“Calm down…” he set the flowers down on a
little side table.

She swallowed a sob and looked up at him.

“I’m g-g-glad you came.” She said, sniffing
back tears. “But your father…he… he passed away on the operating table…”

Adam felt as if the air had been knocked
from his lungs.

“He tried to call you again…but he lost
service when they took him back…”

All at once, every hateful thing he’d ever
said. Every frustration and upset and bit of anger and resentment suddenly came
into sharp relief. Everything felt so petty.

“He…asked me to give this to you….if you
showed up…”

It was only then that he realized she was
holding a small picture in one hand. It was wallet sized and looked very old
and battered. She handed it to him.

It was a picture of him and his father and
sister. They had gone to an airshow when he was eight and there was a hanger
and planes in the background. They were all smiling and happy. The picture
looked damaged and abused and quite old.

“What is…?”

“It’s the picture he kept with him in his
wallet…He took it out today before the surgery.”

“Why?”

“He told me ‘This is what I’ve had to
remember him. He might need it to remember me now.’”

Tears welled up in my eyes.

My world came crashing down.

All his hate. All his anger over petty
differences. It all meant nothing.

He was gone forever and he died
loving me while I hated him.

Adam took the picture and, for the first
time in years, began to cry. All he wanted in that moment was to see him again
and, because of his own arrogance and anger, he would never have that chance
again. All he had was a picture.

(A Story inspired by a prompt from A Prompt a Day Keeps the Critics Away .
This one was “Write a piece about someone’s past come back to bite
them“. I’ve done a few horror pieces recently and it only seemed
appropriate to change it up a bit. I hope you enjoy.)